


Static

by lavvyan



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Episode Related, Established Relationship, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-03-20
Updated: 2010-03-20
Packaged: 2017-10-08 04:06:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,985
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/72523
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lavvyan/pseuds/lavvyan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>"So," Rodney said, his voice oddly hesitant, "your worst nightmare is... me being dead?"</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	Static

**Author's Note:**

  * For [spacedmonkey](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=spacedmonkey), [tagetes](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=tagetes).



> Missing Scene for Doppelganger.

John wished he was still dreaming.

He walked slowly down the halls of Atlantis, trying to get his head around a world without Rodney McKay in it. It didn't seem real, and he had to touch the wall panels, feel their cold smoothness, to convince himself that yes... yes, it was.

Rodney was dead.

John stumbled, staring at his feet as he caught his balance. There were so many things to do, he didn't know where to start. Didn't want to do a single one of them, but had to. Prepare the wake. Figure out where to have someone cremated in Pegasus. Write the eulogy. And they'd have to... _someone_ would have to contact Jeannie and tell her that this thing they had, where her brother and John took turns saving each other's lives? Well, John had _really_ fallen down on the job.

Oh god, he'd have to tell Jeannie. How did you break it to someone that you'd killed her brother? John had been the one to touch the damn crystal in the first place, condemning first Heightmeyer and now Rodney to be literally scared to death. He'd been the one who'd been so sure he'd figured it all out, convinced he could save Rodney if he could just keep him calm. He hadn't expected a fucking _whale_ to eat them, but maybe he should have. Or they could have put Rodney in stasis to buy him more time. But no, John had to play the hero.

He'd failed.

He rounded a corner and then just stood beside the wall, disbelief slowly turning into the kind of numbness that had razorblade edges. Rodney was dead and it was all his fault, and now he'd have to find a way to live with that. The scary thing was that he didn't think he could. He blinked again, trying to breathe around the first clench of pain, but the air seemed thin and unsubstantial, not enough no matter how much he sucked in. His heart stuttered in its chest in what he faintly recognised as panic, and then his friends showed up and it all went downhill from there.

In a way, spotting what had to be the Entity smirking at him was a relief.

"Son of a bitch," John breathed, and started to move. It was in him. The Entitiy had killed Rodney and moved on to John, and he would _break its neck_ for what it had done.

The satisfaction wouldn't be enough to fill up the hollow spaces, but John would take whatever he could get.

He slammed the Entity right through the wall, but it was strong. Freakishly so, and John's fury took on a tint of desperation as he realised that this was a fight he wouldn't win. The Entity's fist hurled toward his face, sinking up to the wrist into the Ancient plaster as it missed John's head by a hair's breadth. He threw a punch, but it intercepted the blow and proceeded to beat the crap out of him, until he landed hard on the gateroom floor and knew that this was it.

This was where he died.

"Get up," the Entity said, but he couldn't. There wasn't a part of him that didn't hurt, inside and out, and he was tired. "Come on, John. Fight!"

"No," he managed around what felt like several broken ribs, "that's what you want."

John had no doubt that this thing was going to kill him, but he'd be damned if he played its sick game even a moment longer. He'd lost, twofold. It was time to end this.

"It's your fault Heightmeyer is dead," it goaded him, "your fault _McKay_ is dead."

And John knew this, he did, but it didn't stop the words from hitting him like another blow, well-aimed and deadly.

And then-

"I'm not dead," Rodney said. _Rodney_ said, and for a moment, everything froze.

Then the Entity let out a low growl, stalked toward Rodney and slammed him against a wall.

"You can't win," it said harshly, but Rodney laughed in its face. John blinked against the sudden burn in his eyes. He had no idea what was going on, but if this was what his mind had come up with to get him out of this mess, he never wanted to wake up.

"Yes, we can. You're vulnerable to electric shock, that's why I'm still alive." His voice full of triumph, Rodney added, "You left before you could finish the job."

Something surged through the Entity and it cried out, jerking back from Rodney as arcs of electricity danced across its frame. John stared in awe as it crashed to its knees. His own body suddenly hurt a lot less. His ribs felt _fine_.

"What the hell was that?" he wanted to know, but Rodney didn't reply, gaze locked on the struggling Entity. Right. This was John's fight.

He grabbed the Entity and pulled it to its feet. It didn't struggle; maybe it was too weak, maybe it had already given up. John didn't care. He gathered what strength he could muster, turned, and hurled the thing through the open Gate. He didn't know where it disappeared to, and, again, he didn't care. It was gone, that was all that mattered.

"Which one are you?" Rodney asked from behind him, and John spun around. He hadn't forgotten about Rodney, not really, but neither had he expected him to still be there.

"Me," he said quietly. His voice came out a little breathless, but no wonder: Rodney was still standing by the foot of the gateroom stairs, whole and healthy and looking a little wary, but none the worse for wear. John's fingers twitched, and he ached with the need to reach out and run his hand along Rodney's arm, over the stupid Canadian flag patch, just to make sure Rodney was really there.

But that was the problem, wasn't it? He was obviously still dreaming. He _couldn't_ be sure.

"Good-you or bad-you?" Rodney wanted to know, and John felt his eyes burn again at the familiarity of him.

"_Me_-me," he said. Then he gathered his courage and asked, "Is that... you-you?"

"I think so."

God. John wanted to... he didn't know what. Apologise, maybe. Ask Rodney if he was sure. Grab him and order him to never, ever pull a stunt like that again, because John's heart couldn't take it.

"Thanks," was what came out instead, heartfelt yet lame, and John could have kicked himself.

Rodney just nodded, looking wide-eyed around the empty gateroom.

"Okay, this is really weird," he blurted.

John huffed what might have been, at another time, a small laugh. "You're telling me."

"I mean, I thought there'd be more..." Rodney's hands waved aimlessly, "hot girls."

"Yeah," John agreed, because the gateroom was seriously lacking in decoration. Then he frowned. "Wait. You'd thought there'd be hot girls... in my nightmare?"

"Uh." Rodney blinked owlishly. In the flickering blue light of the event horizon, he looked even paler than usual. "No? I mean, maybe your college conquests? I can't imagine you had even one relationship that ended amicably."

And that was such a perfectly _Rodney_ thing to say that John couldn't take it any longer.

A few steps closed the remaining distance between them. Rodney raised his hands as if to defend himself, but didn't resist as John pulled him in, held him close, nose buried in Rodney's fine hair. Slowly, Rodney's arms came up around John, and John sighed as some painful tension inside him started to relax. Rodney smelled as he always did, _felt_ as he always did. John couldn't believe he'd never realised how much he... how much...

"So," Rodney said, his voice oddly hesitant, "your worst nightmare is... me being dead?"

It would have been so easy to make a flippant remark, except John found he didn't want to turn this into a joke.

"Yeah," he said simply. "Looks like."

Rodney's hand was warm on his neck, thumb resting behind John's ear. Kissing him seemed like the logical next step, so John did. Rodney's mouth opened to him without hesitation, warm and familiar, and god, _Rodney had been dead._

It was like flipping a switch. With a noise that didn't sound like it had come from a human throat, John pressed closer, one hand holding the back of Rodney's head to keep him from pulling away, the other roaming down Rodney's broad back to grab his ass and squeeze, hard. Rodney grunted, blunt fingers sliding into John's hair as his hips jerked. Dimly, John registered that he was hard, they both were, but he couldn't pay attention to that. Rodney's back hit the wall, the same one the Entity had held him up against, John's hand still on his ass. Their kiss had grown wet and messy, helpless pants and greedy sounds echoing through the empty gateroom.

"John," Rodney gasped, his grip on John's hair painfully tight. His hips jerked again, pressing them together chest to groin, and John moaned.

Skin, he needed skin, needed to _touch_ Rodney already. His hand shook as he fumbled with the buttons of Rodney's fly, popped them open one by one and reached inside, fingers meeting coarse hair and hot skin, and Rodney shuddered against him.

"You too," he breathed, "John, you -"

John kissed him quiet, careful as he pulled Rodney's erection through the gap in his pants. Rodney moaned, one hand squeezing John's ass, the other still tangled in his hair, like he wanted to make sure John didn't disappear. John ran a thumb over the head of Rodney's cock, smearing pre-cum and making Rodney gasp.

But Rodney was nothing if not persistent, and John groaned as Rodney's hand slid from his ass to tug at John's fly and pull his cock out into the open. Rodney's fingers closed around his, squeezing their cocks together, and John pushed helplessly into the contact, moaning into Rodney's mouth.

They didn't manage anything even close to a rhythm, hands trapped between them as their hips bucked, fingers stuttering as they squeezed and slipped and fuck, _fuck_ -

John came, his whole body clenching as he spilled over both their hands, his moan wild and a little desperate. Rodney echoed the sound, pushing into him once, twice, biting at the corner of John's mouth as he stiffened, adding more to the mess between them.

They stood like that, panting, the wall at Rodney's back holding them both upright. John nuzzled Rodney's jaw, and Rodney pressed a shaky kiss to John's ear.

"Jesus," John rasped. They'd done this before, after harrowing missions or simply to relieve the boredom of an uneventful month, but it had never felt like this. Never.

Rodney laughed shakily, wet fingers squeezing John's before he pulled his hand away and tucked himself back in. John un-slicked his own softening cock as well as he could and followed, getting stuff all over his fly as he buttoned up. Rodney laughed again, although this time it sounded more like a snigger.

"Good thing we don't have to clean that up," he said breathlessly, and John had to kiss him again. Rodney went willingly enough.

When they pulled apart, ages later, John took a careful step back. They really were a mess, both of them, and if he didn't get his act together, they would probably end up looking even worse.

Rodney was watching him. "Are you... is everything okay?"

John thought about that for a moment. Kate Heightmeyer was dead. Rodney probably wasn't dead, although John would allow himself to believe that in full only after he'd woken up and found Rodney there beside him. His friends had been having nightmares that wore his face, so no. No, he wasn't okay.

"It will be," he said, and Rodney nodded. Their hands brushed together as they walked up the gateroom stairs side by side.

They'd be okay. Eventually.


End file.
